


In Which Sam Knows Who to Ask for Fashion Advice

by notenoughtogivebread



Series: Klaine Advent 2015 [9]
Category: Glee
Genre: Blam, Body Image, Future Fic, Multi, Pining, daddy!klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughtogivebread/pseuds/notenoughtogivebread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Klaine Advent 2015 prompt Jumble<br/>This is a future fic; squint and its canon: Klaine visit Sam on their Thanksgiving visit home, baby in tow; or, Sam is getting serious about Mercedes, and he needs some help. This is 1000 words of mostly Blam, because Kurt can only take so much of Sam (he loves him, really; he just doesn’t quite get him in his more manic moods).</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Sam Knows Who to Ask for Fashion Advice

Sam met the little family at the door of his apartment in an abbreviated pair of very red briefs. “Oh, thank God you’re here!” he exclaimed, pulling Blaine into a hug and then almost crushing Mary Grace to Kurt’s chest with another. 

“Uh, Sam, I thought you were going to show us the baby playground at Kibby Corner,” Blaine said. 

“We are, we are. I need to spend time with this beauty,” Sam replied, his hand hovering over the baby’s curls until Kurt gave a little nod. He ruffled them fondly. “Little girls are the best.” 

“I think what Blaine’s saying is that, um, your neighbors might prefer, well, a _different_ approach to your wardrobe,” Kurt noted. 

Sam frowned. “Oh, you mean, because I’m in my undies. That’s ‘cause—I was wondering if you guys could give me a hand.” 

He led them, not into the living room, but past it to the open bedroom door. Kurt stopped in dismay at the mess, staring at the jumble of clothes strewn about. “Sam, what happened here?” 

“See, that’s it. I can’t decide on the right thing to wear tonight, and I guess it got a little out of hand.” 

“So these are clean clothes?” Kurt asked hopefully, shifting the baby onto his hip and leaning against the doorway. 

“Yeah, yeah. I just—I want to look GOOD for lunch with you guys and ‘Cedes, and FANTASTIC for my dinner date with her.” 

Blaine glanced at his husband, saw his discomfort at the mess, and touched his arm gently. “I’ve got this Kurt. Maybe—Sam, is the living room reasonably baby-proofed?” 

Sam proudly led them back into the tiny living room, ignoring the low whispers behind him. “Yeah, look. Emma lent me some of her stuff—plug protectors and, like, these corner guards for the table, and, look, Gracie—some baby safe toys.” 

Kurt eyed the plush, crinkly duck in Sam’s hands suspiciously even as the baby, happily babbling, reached for it. “Are they--?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Clean? Hello, Emma Schuester? Plus, I know what babies need. Your guys forget I’m a big brother—and I sit with the kids every Thursday to give the Schus a night out.” 

“Okay then, Kurt?” Blaine asked, pulling Sam away before he could get too comfortable playing on the floor with Gracie. 

He took a seat cross-legged in the middle of Sam’s bed, literally the only place in the whole room not blanketed with _some_ piece of Sam’s wardrobe. The blond was trying on the 6th—or was it the 7th?—pair of pants in his quest for just the right look. 

“How about these, Blaine? Does my ass look all right in these?” Sam craned his neck around, trying to get a good look in the mirror at his own behind. 

Blaine tried to see the difference between these trim black pants and the last ones. “You look fine, Sam. They fit you, if that’s what you mean.” 

“They need to do more than fit me, man. I need my booty to look spectacular. She’s been dating all these dancers.” 

“Only one dancer, I think,” Blaine mused, then, realizing that making Sam more insecure wasn’t helping his quest to get out the door, scooted close to the edge of the bed, making grabby hands. Sam stepped close so Blaine could check the fall of the pant leg. Years of being married to Kurt had taught him the basics of good tailoring, and these worked for Sam. He smoothed down the thigh, then said, “I like these; they’re classy. They could do with a quick pressing, I think, but we can stop by the house to borrow Carole’s iron after lunch. How comfortable are they?” 

“You mean in the crotch? They’re fine. But—is the material stretching too much over my ass?” 

“Would you stop trying to get me to compliment your ass, Sam? Mercedes Jones is not going to care about the state of your butt.” 

Sam waggled his eyebrows at his friend. 

“Fine. You know what, you look great. Your booty is holding up just fine for an old man of 25.” 

“I’m worrying too much. That’s bad. I’ll start running at the mouth, and…” 

“I know you just want to show her you’re serious. But you’re forgetting that Mercedes likes what’s on the inside as much as what’s outside. And really, buddy, you look great.” 

“Like, I haven’t lost a step? I mean, I stayed in Lima, and she’s toured with Beyoncé—Beyoncé, Blaine.” He collapsed onto the bed next to his best friend, and flung himself back to look up at the ceiling of his room. 

“I just know it was HER idea to make sure she got home for Thanksgiving so she can be part of our baby-naming/Christening/whatever for Mary Grace. And you know she can visit us in New York anytime.” 

“So you really think this is IT—she might be ready?” 

“Only one way to find out, Sam. Now come on, you see if you can find a shirt you like, and we’ll get Kurt’s approval. Meanwhile, I’m going to get to work picking up the trousers here. Where’s those jeans you were wearing last week on our Skype call? They’ll do for lunch and the playground.” 

Sam started picking up shirts, holding them up and frowning, then tossing them on the bed. “I look great, huh?” 

“Still fishing for compliments?” 

His friend laughed, shrugging into a cobalt blue dress shirt. Blaine stopped his picking up to admire the choice. “Now THAT shirt looks good. It’s a great cut and it really brings out your eyes.” 

“So you’re saying you’d do me?” 

“Married man, Sam,” he replied, pushing his friend out the bedroom door to get Kurt’s okay and get this show on the road.


End file.
